


Not All That Wander Are Lost

by Siriusfanatic



Series: X-Men: Past, Present and Future [4]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Origin Story, Prequel, Romance, Slash, Suggested Prostitution, homeless gambit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needing a break from the X-Men, Logan finds himself in New Orleans, where he comes across a street performer who calls himself Gambit. Immediately attracted to the man, Logan finds himself biting off more than he bargained for when Gambit's enemies come looking to finish the injured mutant off, and Logan realizes that he may need the X-Men more than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Early Remy/Logan I had sitting on the back burner and got the inspiration to write, even though I'm in the middle of other projects. 
> 
> * This does not take place in the same canon as my other fics but will be part of it's own stand-alone series.
> 
> Inspired by "Ultimate X-Men" Gambit, but only the first two issues of Remy's story. None that scary frizzy hair nonsense. Gambit is also younger here, probably early to mid twenties, where in later fics I always picture him in his mid thirties.

 

 

                The humidity had his shirt clinging to his back and trickles of sweat tickling down his chest and sides beneath it. He shifted uncomfortably on the seat of his Harley and glanced across the bustling sidewalk as he put the bike into park.

                New Orleans. He hadn’t been before, not in recent memory, and found that he already wished he had picked someplace else to stay for a few days. But he knew no one would expect him to come here; Logan was a Northern man by nature, who liked the cold and the wilderness. No one would think to come looking for him this far south.

                He climbed off his bike, adjusted his belt and his jacket, which was also smoldering in the heat, and sauntered his way into the nearest, darkest bar he could find. The air conditioning hit him and he sighed in relief, not even caring about the lingering smell of Freon or mingling smell of sweat, stale beer and greasy bar food.

                He moved immediately to the corner of the bar, climbed onto the stool and ordered whatever was on tap. He was served and immediately forgotten about, and that suited him fine. He needed a little breather, a little space to clear his head.

                Things had gotten a little too intense back home. It was his own fault. He knew better than to get attached, knew better than to be having thoughts about Jean Grey. Pure, special, untouchable Jean Grey. Logan had fallen hard and fast and stupidly for the woman, and now it was biting him in the ass, over and over again.

                He deserved it, he realized. Not only was Jean very much involved with Scott, but she was…not for him. Realistically it would have never worked out, even if they’d had a chance. Logan admired her ambition, her optimism, her intelligence. She was fine star pupil for Xavier. But she was nothing like him. And if she had ever looked inside his mind; _really_ looked, she would have turned and run the other way a long time ago.

                He was better off without her anyway. Love like that always lead to heartache, always lead to him getting hurt in the worse way possible. Too often his lovers had been used against him and it cost them their lives. Or, and he still couldn’t tell which was worse, they turned on him at the drop of the dime, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. Either outcome tore him apart. .

                He was almost at the bottom of his bottle, so he ordered another, and the bar tender took a little more note of him. Logan smiled. Thanks to his healing factor, he could drink the place dry and still walk out of here. Probably not very well, mind you, but he would still be on his feet. Anyone else would have been dead.

                He glanced around the room, taking in the local fare. People didn’t seem to change that much from place to place in the states. Most of the time it was like he was looking at a slight variant of the place he had just been. New Orleans had more character though, he had to give it that. More flash, more flare.

                He could feel an energy humming off them; a thirst for life, for excitement. For love.

                He heard the door behind him and someone walked in. Logan sensed a change in the air, a new kind of energy. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at a younger man moving towards the bar. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt that was torn at the sleeves and was so old and worn that it was practically sheer in spots. He carried a long tan trench coat over his shoulder, and below that was a pair of shredded jeans and nearly worn through sneakers. His hair was long, a rusty auburn color that Logan didn’t see often, just dusting the tops of his shoulders and hanging in his eyes.

                Logan had to take a second glance at the man’s eyes. They were red, red and gleaming like coals, floating in liquid black. Mutant. Mutant and beautiful.

                The young man settled down two seats away from him, tying the coat around his waist and dropping the little card table he’d been carrying. He started riffling through the pockets of his jeans and produced a handful of wrinkled bills. He ordered some water, some beer and a sandwich. The bartender looked over each bill before accepting and then disappeared into the back for a time.

                Logan said nothing, nursing his drink and quietly observing the newcomer in his periphery. The man smelled like sweat and gasoline fumes, but there was something else too. Something warm and spicy, something electric, just below the surface. Logan shifted on his stool, swallowing a little too loudly. He felt a twitch in his groin. The smell of the man was turning him on; as if his looks weren’t enough, though it looked as if he’d been working all day and hadn’t showered.

                Finally the man with the demon eyes glanced in his direction, “Hot on out dere, non?” he asked blithely with a little smile, chugging down the glass of ice water he’d been handed.

                “Sure is,” Logan mumbled, not looking at him directly.

                The kid looked him over, “You not from around here I guess. Passin’ through?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Lots of people do,” the other added casually, “N’Awlins thanks you for stoppin’ by. Gonna stick around awhile?”

                “Maybe,” Logan replied, a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. He turned to look at the younger man more fully. The kid was tall, and looked thinner than maybe he was for it, but his arms were muscular and lean. Logan could see the edge of his ribs under that thin shirt, and a flash of tan skin through a couple of holes and tears below it. His groin twitched again and he felt a flush of heat there. God dammit, he was horny.

                “Anything fun to do around here?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t sounding as forward or perhaps as slyly perverse as he felt.

                The other man smiled again; “Oh, lots of t’ings, homme, if you in de mood. Just gotta know where to look.”

                He pulled from his pocket a deck of cards and fanned them expertly in front of Logan. “Pick a card, mon ami. Any card.”

                Logan almost laughed, more amused by the kid’s accent than the clichéd gesture. _“Alright, I’ll bite.”_ He thought, considering the deck in front of him and then picking the card closest to the man’s index finger, allowing his fingers to brush a long it lightly. There was spark that passed through them, almost literally and Logan stilled for a moment with the card in his hand, just staring. The man stared back for a second, black and red eyes wide, and then quickly glanced away, smile firmly affixed on his lips.

                “Now, you look at de card, but don’t show me. Den hand it back, and I give you a li’ insight.”

                “Alright.” Logan glanced at the card; the King of Hearts. He passed it back and the copper haired man shuffled it through his deck with fantastic reflexes and precision, allowing the cards to practically fly through the air and catching them neatly in his palm.

                Then he pressed the whole deck against his forehead and closed his eyes, humming a little. “Hmm, you a strong man, m’sieur. A warrior; soldier maybe? No…more den dat. You a leader, and dat makes you a king.”

                “Getting’ warmer,” Logan said and his voice almost purred. He hadn’t been this attracted to someone in a while, this eager to take a perfect stranger into his bed.

                “But being a king requires more den leadership, more den strength. Requires compassion, and…a good heart.” He produced Logan’s card from the deck, letting his fingers flicker over it for a second before it began to levitate and glow bright magenta.

                The other patrons around the bar were staring now, watching the trick. Logan was impressed as well, but not for the same reasons. “Dis your card, mon ami?”

                The card hovered in front of Logan for a moment and then burned away everything but the heart shape before turning to ash. Logan smiled; “Clever trick, kid.”

                “Merci,” the man replied, his voice a little lower, a little more sultry. Logan wasn’t imagining this; the kid was coming on to him for certain. But the moment was ruined as they heard the click of a gun.

                Both he and the Cajun turned back toward the bar to see the bar tender pointing a handgun at the young man’s head. “Get out; right now. Don’t want your kind ‘round here.”

                The Cajun put his hands up slowly, staring down the barrel of the gun. “Look, homme, don’t want no trouble. It was just a little magic trick, no harm dere.”

                The man’s fingers wavered as he pulled back the safety. The boy scrambled down from his seat, backing up hurriedly. “Don’t shoot. I goin’…”

                “No you’re not,” Logan muttered then. The bar tender looked up at him in surprise.

                “You defendin’ this little muttie piece of shit?”

                Logan lifted his fist, allowing the blades that were lodged between his knuckles to appear before the man and his stunned patrons. The man’s eyes widened and his gun shook in his fingers. “Guess I am.” Logan growled.

                He stood up and backed towards the Cajun, who was staring at him with the same shocked expression. He put a hand on the man’s arm, “Let’s get out of here.”

                “Oui,” the other man nodded, backing out the door with Logan still in front of him. As soon as they put a foot outside, the younger man turned to run. Logan grabbed his wrist lightly and turned him back, “Hey, hold up, bub, no need for that.”

                The younger man hesitated, looking caught between fighting and running, staring at Logan’s face. The smell that had intoxicated Logan just a few moments before had changed, now mingled with something bitter. The kid was afraid; and angry, and something else. In full sunlight he could see that he was dirty, sweaty, and there were circles under those stunning red on black eyes. The other man was suffering, perhaps sick.

                Logan nodded towards the black Harley he had parked at the end of the street. “Come on, I’m stayin’ not far from here. Let me buy you some lunch and maybe you can show me some more card tricks. What’dya say?”

                The man in front of him considered and Logan felt a tremble in his skin. “Alright,” he said slowly. His smile returned, though it was fainter than before. “Gambit come with you.”

                “’Gambit’?” Logan chuckled. “That’s some name, kid.”

                “I didn’t catch yours,” the red haired man replied as Logan lead him towards his bike.

                “Logan.”

                “Hmm,” the Cajun nodded, he brushed his fingers along the other man’s hand, lightly playing his fingertips over the veins and the hollows between his knuckles. “I like dat.”

                Logan sat down on the seat and patted the place behind him. The Cajun climbed on behind him, settling his arms around Logan’s thick torso, fingers splaying across his muscles for a moment before knotting themselves in the fabric of his shirt for security. “Hang on tight,” he cautioned.

                “No problem dere, homme.”

                “You ever ride before?”

                The red head nodded, “Just not on de back before.”

                Logan grinned and opened up the throttle on his Harley, pulling out into the street in a smooth, quick motion. He felt the younger man squeeze tighter against him, so he went a little faster, just to feel him cling to him.

                They arrived at the hotel a few miles later, a swanky place located not far from the water. Gambit seemed a little hesitant as he looked up at the place, then cast his eyes to the ground as Logan dismounted from the bike, pulling him along. “Dis a nice place,” he replied.

                “Eh, sure, I guess.” Logan shrugged, having not really thought about it. Gambit rubbed his bare arms for a moment before slipping on his trench coat. He knew the kid had to be hot in it, be he seemed a little less awkward while wearing it. In fact, Logan thought he looked amazing in that coat.

                They walked together through the revolving front door, and Gambit kept his eyes down, following Logan closely. His fear scent lingered and Logan felt worried. They took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the long carpeted hallway to the room at the end, where Logan swiped his key card and ushered the younger man inside.

                The Cajun glanced around at the room; it was nothing too posh or elaborate, just your basic single suite, but there was a large bed, a couch, little kitchen and big screened TV. He felt Logan brush past him and almost visibly flinched, which made the older man even more concerned.

                “You get hostility like that often?” he asked, shrugging out of his own jacket and pulling off his flannel shirt, flopping down on the couch and kicking up his feet on the coffee table, letting the cool air wash over his sweaty skin.

                “How you mean?”

                “That asshole in the bar. People around here threaten you a lot?”

                The Cajun shrugged his shoulders. “People are what de are. Gambit pay no mind to dem as long as dey leave him alone. Dat how we all get along.”

                “Shouldn’t be that way,” Logan muttered. He patted the couch cushion, “Come on in, relax! I got a room service menu around here somewhere, or I’m sure there’s a couple take out menus in the drawer by the bed. What are ya hungry for?”

                The kid seemed to squirm a little, nervous and jittery. Logan stood up and made his way back over to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s alright. You ever been with another mutant before?”

                “Not one like you,” Gambit mumbled. “You…seem nice.”

                The dark haired man laughed at this statement, but he could see that the other man was completely serious. He lifted his hand and tentatively pushed back some of those long coppery strands of hair from the man’s face and tucked them behind his ear. The taller man shivered a little, looking down at him. Logan felt his arousal return, the fear in the other man beginning to subside by degrees, allowing his real scent to return.

                “You look like you’ve been on your feet all day. Why don’t you clean up, take a shower. I’ll order some food, and I gotta few calls ta make. Sound good?”

                “Oui,” Gambit nodded, but didn’t move, as if he were waiting permission. But as he struggled to convince him that he was safe here, Gambit leaned down and surprised him by kissing him. Logan gave over to him quickly and eagerly. The kiss was so warm, so inviting. He felt that same strange spark pass through him again, and he carefully put his hands on the taller man’s arms, trying to draw him in closer.

                Gambit went obediently, leaning against the shorter, broader man, feeling Logan’s growing arousal pressing against his hip. He moaned a little into the man’s mouth and reached down, brushing his fingers along the straining denim.

                Still kissing heatedly, Logan pulled the man out of his coat, running his palm down the man’s back. He felt his wince a little as he touched along his left side, and Logan started to pull away, wondering what was wrong, but Gambit nudged and pushed him along until he fell into a chair by the door. The taller man dropped to his knees in front of him and pulled Logan’s shirt over his head.

                The red on black eyes drank in the sight of the other man’s muscular form, not to mention the thick black hair that covered his chest and formed a line that lead down his rock hard stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Gambit brushed his fingers along it and made Logan moan softly, his reflexively pushing his hips up towards the touch. The Cajun leaned close, laying himself between Logan’s spread thighs and pressing warm kisses along his naked skin.

                Logan gulped loudly when his tongue brushed over one of his nipples, followed by the scrape of teeth. Gambit’s musk was clouding his head, making him so aroused he could barely sit still, fighting the animal urge to bend the kid over and fuck him raw without warning.

                He put a hand on the back of Gambit’s head, threading his thick fingers through the long rusty strands. The tresses were damp with sweat and tangled, but Logan was careful. The kid ran a gloved hand along his thigh, reaching up to cup the straining bulge in the man’s jeans. “Just relax, m’sieur,” he purred. “Gambit make you feel good.”

                Logan stilled then, hooded eyes suddenly wide open, looking at the Cajun cautiously. He caught the man’s chin in his hand, feeling the little bit of stubble there, and made him look up at him. “Hey…you don’t _have_ to do this, kid.”

                The Cajun smiled slyly, “Oh but I want to, cher. To thank you.” He dipped his head again, but Logan pulled him back up, sitting up now and ignoring the ache in his loins that was screaming for attention. “Let’s slow down, take a breath. Why don’t you take that shower, huh? I’ll get the food. Then we can see where the night takes us. Sound good?”

                The Cajun nodded, pushing back and awkwardly getting to his feet. He wouldn’t look at Logan, and his sly smile had been replaced with a sullen frown. He was embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. Logan felt a pang of guilt, hoping he hadn’t offended him.

                He stood up, trying to reach for the other man, but he flinched away. “Sorry, m’sieur. I go clean up, den maybe…”

                Logan caught his wrist as the kid turned and to his surprise he saw those red eyes flash dangerously. A crackle of bright pink energy rippled across his fingers, shocking Logan and making him release the kid. “Don’t touch me like dat,” he muttered.

                “I’m sorry…” Logan replied cautiously, still feeling the prickle across his skin. He looked cautiously at the man who called himself Gambit. “Why do you think I asked you up here, Gambit?”

                The kid glowered at him. “For de same reason anyone asks me anywhere, mon ami. For sex. Dat all you people t’ink I’m good for _. Cheap amusement._ ”

                The anger coming off the kid now as powerful, so was the hurt and resentment and the sick smell. Something was wrong with the kid, something bad. Logan pushed down his temper, knowing the words the man was spiting at him came from a place of fear; a place he had encountered before in many like them. But pity wouldn’t do either. That would just make him more angry.

                “Ain’t gonna lie, kid, I want ya. But only on your terms. This has got to be a mutual thing, or it ain’t a thing at all. Not that kind of man.”

                “You _all_ dat kind of man.” Gambit spat back. He turned and reached towards his coat, but Logan moved around him and blocked his exit.

                “Get outta my way, homme.”

                “Not until we set things straight.”

                Gambit reached for the cards in his pocket and raised it in front of him, allowing his energy to charge it until glowed brilliantly. “I said get outta my way.” He warned, low and dangerous. Logan recognized a cornered animal when he saw one.

                But Logan kept his ground. The kid needed his help. Even if he didn’t exactly know it at the moment. “Go ahead, Cajun. I got all night.”

                Gambit bellowed and flung the card at his head. Logan dodged it, allowing it to hit the door behind him as he lept forward and tackled the taller man to the ground. A little explosion rocked the room, knocking several pictures from the wall and blowing the thick door off its hinges.

                Great, just great. Now they were gonna have security and probably a bomb squad on their hands.

                Gambit struggled beneath him, but he could tell the kid was overwhelmed by his strength by the feeble way he pushed at him. Not surprising, not many people expected him to be as heavy as he was, what with his adamantium skeleton weighing down on them.

                But this was something else. The kid was sweating suddenly and pale and Logan smelled blood. He caught the Cajun’s hands and pinned them to the ground while the other man screamed and cursed him, noticing that the strength seemed to be going out of him. Had he accidentally hurt the kid?

                “Dammit, Gambit, get a grip! I ain’t gonna hurt ya!”

                “Fuck you!”

                Gambit’s eyes suddenly began to roll in his head and Logan dropped his defensive stance over him, instead picking the kid up in his arms. When his hand brushed his back he found it damp and sticky and when he pulled it away it was smeared red. He turned the limp man over and saw that he was bleeding liberally from a long laceration in his back. Someone had stabbed him, and recently.

                He heard a commotion from the hallway then, people shouting and emergency lights flashing. Logan cursed as he gathered up the now unconscious man in his arms and grabbed his jacket before making a run for the exit. He passed a group of startled people, who shouted as he made his way passed them, and darted down the emergency stairwell.

                As he reached the bottom floor and kicked the door open, he was greeted by a startled cop, who shouted at him.

                “Sorry, bub, got no time to explain!” He punched the man and knocked him aside, knowing he would have to forego his bike in favor of safer transportation. Luckily, he saw someone getting out of a car just then. He rushed the man, pushing past him before the valet could grab the keys and knocked him aside. “I owe ya pal, sorry!” he laid Gambit in the passenger seat and locked the doors as the startled civilian and valet pounded on the glass, and then took off like a shot into traffic, cutting several people off and causing quite a mess, but in all the chaos he was able to slip down a side street into a less crowded section of town and vanish.

 

**

 

                Logan paced the floor of his new hotel room. It was a much smaller place, seedy and less than hygienic, but people didn’t ask questions here. He had managed to carry Gambit in without being noticed, which was a small grace. But the kid was still in a bad way.

                After finally getting a good look at him, Logan began to piece together some of the causes for his new friend’s actions. Gambit was a street kid, no doubt about it. The unwashed clothes, the worn through shoes and tattered gloves, the odd possessions he kept in the pockets of that long trench coat—a tooth brush, toilet paper, a dozen or so business cards from churches and shelters. It also explained his bizarre behavior, from the eagerness to seduce Logan to the skittishness he exuded when he was rejected.

                Only Logan hadn’t really rejected him. He just…

                He found himself growling in frustration, not knowing what to do next. Gambit was still unconscious on the bed, lying on his stomach with his face turned towards him. Logan had stripped him out of his dirty clothes so that he could clean the wound in his back. He was both relieved and concerned when he got a better look at it. The wound was older than he first guessed, having already started to heal. But it had been reopened in the struggle, and Logan smelled signs of infection in it. Gambit needed medicine, maybe even a doctor, and right now he was far from home and even farther from familiar and friendly contacts.

                There were other lesser things to worry about too. Clearly the kid was malnourished, dehydrated, and lacking in sleep. All these things plus the stress of their fight had rendered him as he was now. Logan could cure these ills…if Gambit would let him. But he had been around too long to assume such a thing. He knew the deep distrust mutants had for other people, especially those who’d had it rough as Gambit did. Getting him to believe that Logan only wanted to help him, without some ulterior motive, was going to be a challenge.

                He sat down in the chair next to the bed by the window, allowing the cool breeze from the window fan to blow over him, and flicked on the TV. Occasionally his eyes would flicker towards the sleeping man on the bed, drinking in the little details of his features. He wondered how old he was; how long he’d been living on the street. He wondered if there was someone, _anyone_ , who knew him and could help.

                He started riffling through the stack of cards he’d found in the trench coat. A lot were from charities and churches, some Logan had heard of before, some he hadn’t. There were business cards too, and Logan scowled at them, guessing whom they belonged to and why they had been given to the man. Finally he came across a little scrap of paper that was folded among them, and inside it had a name and a phone number. Logan noted that the area code was local and felt a little relief. Maybe this was a friend of Gambit’s, someone who could take him in.

                The man on the bed shifted and moaned a little and Logan moved towards him, tucking the cards away in his own pocket. He pressed his hand gently on the man’s upper back, feeling him breath and shift. The red on black eyes came open and as Logan expected, he jumped, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings.

                “Shh, don’t get up too fast. Stay down, you’re alright.”

                Gambit pushed himself up on one elbow and turned to look back at him, not seeming to recognize him at first. “What’d you do to me?” he gasped, realizing he was naked beneath the blankets. “What’d you do!?”

                “Shh! Nothing!” Logan cringed now, wishing he had thought to redress the kid. The man was obviously terrified. “You were bleeding, so I had to get you out of your clothes. I cleaned up that cut on your back, but I swear I haven’t touched ya in any other way.”

                Gambit kicked at him, trying to escape, and the dark haired man easily avoided his feeble blows. “Listen to me, Gambit, you’re hurt, you’re sick. You need to _relax._ I just wanna help.”

                “Dey all say dat. Dey all say dey can offer me another way out, but all dey want is ta use me! Well I’m _done_ wit dat shit, homme!”

                “Look, I know you ain’t got much reason to trust me right now, but there’s a _reason_ you picked me in that bar, I know it. So what was it? What made you pick me? Did I look like an easy target?”

                “Non!”

                “Then why me!?”

                “Because!” The struggling man stilled with Wolverine leaning over him, staring up into his face as if he had just realized something. “Because…” He sunk back into the pillows and his hand came up alongside Logan’s face. Logan nuzzled his palm and felt an odd sensation wash over him. Gambit’s scent changed, shifting between fear and lust and trepidation. Logan realized finally what the scent meant. The kid was Empath of some sort, able to sense others emotions. He was sensing Logan right now, trying to read what kind of man he was, if his intentions were what he said.

                So Logan put all his concentration into letting Gambit know. The kid needed to feel safe, he needed to know that he wasn’t the sort of man that would hurt him or take advantage of him. That he knew where he was coming from, at least in some sense. That he had been a victim too, and understood.

                The feeling passed and the red haired man sunk back, seemingly exhausted, with a little gasp. Logan held his hand against his cheek, liking the warmth and the feel of it and hoping to further reassure him. “Do ya understand now, kid?”

                “Oui,” Gambit gulped. His black eyes were wet and moisture appeared at the corner. He scrubbed it away with the back of his wrist angrily. “Desole, mon ami. I…misjudged you.”

                “Nah, I don’t think you did. You just got scared. It’s okay, it’s normal, all things considered.” He pressed a little kiss to Gambit’s palm before standing up and making his way over to the little fold out table against the wall, where brown bags of take out were sitting. He pulled out a Styrofoam container of soup and bunch of crackers, along with bread and what looked to be a club sandwich. He brought them all to Gambit and sat them down on the nightstand next to the bed. “All yours, take your pick. Got drinks too, but you need to drink some water. Think that’s why you passed out.”

                He grabbed a bottle of it and passed it to the kid, who gulped it down eagerly, nearly choking. “Merci,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm again. Logan smiled and then grabbed a folded t-shirt from the edge of the bed. “Here, I got ya these too. Nothing fancy, but figured you needed something clean. I put your stuff in the laundry.”

                Remy nervously took the t-shirt, feeling the clean dry cotton in his fingers and slid it over his head. It was a little large on his thin frame, but he didn’t mind. It didn’t smell and covered him. Logan also handed him a pair of underwear and plain blue lounge pants.

                “Where you get dese?”

                “Bought ‘em from the store around the corner. Nothing fancy, believe me. But they’ll do in a pinch. Hope they fit, you’re such a gangly thing.”

                Gambit smirked, putting the clothes on without removing the blankets. “Well, we can’t all be short dark and hairy.” He chuckled.

                Logan laughed in return and pushed the food towards him again. “Eat, it’s getting’ cold.”

                He did his best to pretend to watch TV, not wanting to stare as the younger man devoured the food in front of him like a starving dog. Logan ached to see his suffering; he’d known that sort of hunger before, and the shame and helplessness that went along with it. But he also sensed that Gambit was always aware of his emotions, and so he pretended to ignore him, keeping things casual.

                “How come you not use your claws on me?” he asked a few moments later, mouth still full.

                Logan blinked at him, “I didn’t want ta hurt ya.”

                “Why not?” Gambit asked, “I coulda blown your head off w’it dat card I threw at you.”

                “Yeah…you could have tried.” The dark haired man replied, taking another bite of his own burger. Gambit eyed him curiously.

                “You got some secret you keepin’?” he asked tentatively.

                Logan shrugged his broad shoulders, “Not so much a secret as it is a detail. A detail that can wait. You need anything else?” he looked down at the empty containers, glad to see the kid had eaten his fill.

                “Non, but thank you.” Remy said. He winced as he tried to get comfortable against the headboard. “Feel kinda sick actually…dat de most I’ve had in a while.”

                The sick scent on the man lingered, and Logan noted that his body temperature had risen some degrees. He put a hand on Remy’s cheek and the man flinched again, but only a little. Logan withdrew apologetically, “Sorry. I won’t touch ya if you don’t want.”

                “It’s…alright. Just…not used to it. You so kind ta Remy.”

                “Remy?”

                The kid blushed. “Dat my real name. But everyone just call me Gambit.”

                “I like Remy better.”

                The kid chuckled a little, though it was a weak sound. “Thought _I_ was supposed to be the charmer.”

                His brow furrowed and he made a little whimpering sound in his throat, rubbing his head. “Lie down,” Logan instructed, helping him to shift back under the blankets. “You’re burning up. Gonna go get you something for that, okay? Stay put, don’t open the door for anybody but me, got it?”

                Remy nodded vaguely, curling up in the blankets like he was freezing and shutting his eyes tightly. Logan swept back his hair again and Remy didn’t flinch this time. He stood up and discarded the trash before grabbing his keys and making for the door. “Will you be here when I get back?”

                “Oui.” Remy mumbled, peeking up at him. Logan sensed he wasn’t lying and so he nodded and slipped out the door.

                Once he was down the hall he stopped and looked back, half expecting to see Gambit sneaking out the door. But after a few minutes of quiet observation, he neither saw nor heard anything. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, sighing as he looked through the contact list. He had hoped to avoid this; to avoid having to deal with anyone, at least for a while. But Gambit, _Remy_ , needed him.

                “One of these days I’m gonna have to stop being such a pussy for these wayward kids,” he muttered to himself, dialing the number and waiting for someone to pick up.

                _“Hello? Logan, is that you?”_

                “Hey, sweetheart,” Logan sighed, hearing Ororo’s familiar accent on the other end of the line. “Sorry for not saying goodbye before.”

                _“Where are you? Everyone has been worried.”_

                “I’m sure that’s not true,” he muttered.

                _“Scott has been worried too, my brother. Why did you depart so suddenly? Are you well?”_

                “I’m fine, but…” he looked back towards the door. “I’ve got someone with me that needs some help. I can’t get back just now, but do you think you and Hank could come down and have a look?”

                _“Certainly. But why us?”_

                “Because you two are about the only people I trust enough with this kid right now. He’s a little…unstable, and he’s sick. I think he’s gotten tied up in some bad stuff around here. I wanna help ‘im.”

                _“Of course, Logan. Where are you?”_

                “New Orleans.”

                _“How—“_

                “Nevermind. Just…how soon can you get here?”

                _“We’ll be on the next plane.”_

                “Thanks, Stormy. I owe you one.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

 

***

 

                Remy waited until he no longer heard any stirring outside the door. When he was sure the other man had gone, he kicked off the blankets and stood, though he fell back a moment later, dizzy and sick. He didn’t have time for this.

                Doubling over he rubbed a hand across his old wound and found that Logan had bandaged it. He was grateful for this, but even the haze of the fever that was growing in him didn’t do much to lessen the constant ache. The wound was not more than a week old, maybe less, he couldn’t remember anymore. He’d been jumped late one night, leaving the shelter he sometimes slept in when the rain became too bad. He’d been careless and cost him. Hammerhead was dead, but that didn’t stop his former thugs from coming to find him. And Essex…Essex was always watching it seemed.

                He staggered up again once he had caught his breath and fumbled for his coat, which the man called Logan had hung on a hook near the door. He dug into the pockets, frowning as he found the contents missing and disturbed. His playing cards were still intact and that was something. He hurriedly tucked a few into the pockets of the baggy blue pants he’d been given, and then began to dig for a particular scrap of paper.

                He needed to call someone, and these days, there were fewer and fewer names to his list of friends. He’d been abandoned, utterly, by everyone after the mess he’d caused with Hammerhead. Remy didn’t know the crooked cop had ties to the scientist who had once ensnared him. If he had…      

                Even if he had, it wouldn’t have changed anything. No matter what happened now, it was worth it. Maybe he wasn’t a good man, a homeless mutant grifter that had been brought up from nothing and raised to steal and deceive. But he still had morals. He still had a conscience. He still had a fucking _soul_.

                The scrap of paper was nowhere and he cursed quietly, leaning against the wall as another wave of dizziness washed over him. He’d hoped the food would settle him, but he could feel it all rolling in his stomach and he fought to keep it down.

                He stumbled back over to the bed and fell upon it, reaching for the phone on the table and praying he remembered the number. After a moment’s hesitation he dialed and then laid back and listened to the dial tone, hoping a familiar voice would answer.

                _“Who is this?”_ a voice on the other end of the line demanded, rough and unassuming.

                “John? It me, Remy,” Gambit croaked back, relieved he had remembered the number. There was a pause and he heard the man shift in the background.

                _“Where are you, Cajun?”_

                “In town, at a motel down by de river somewhere. T’ink I in a tight spot; could use a hand, if you be obliged.”

                Another pause _, “Don’t know about that,”_ the voice on the other end said slowly. _“Thought you said you were done with us.”_

                “Not _you_ , John. Just…Essex. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it, you know dat. We go back longer den him, Johnnie. Please…I got no one else.”

                _“Alright. Can you get away?”_

                Remy looked across the hotel room, hesitating. “Not tonight. Need a little time, tomorrow maybe. Meet me in de subway…follow de tunnels, you find me soon enough.”

                _“Alright. Tomorrow morning, LeBeau. And if you don’t show, don’t bother to call again. I got better things to do than bail your scrawny ass outta trouble.”_

                “Oui, merci mon frere.” He hung up and slumped onto the bed, knowing he was about to lose the battle with his food. He grabbed the bedside trash can and hurled it all in one loud agonizing burst that left him coughing and spitting, then staggered up again and dumped the mess in the toilet, splashing cold water from the bathroom sink on his face and neck.

                He thought about Logan, unsure what to do. He liked the man, truly he did. When he had first laid eyes on him he immediately pegged him for a tourist, someone who would be easy to get close to. Tourist were always easily taken in by his charm, his accent, his looks. Even when he was dirty and sweat slick and hadn’t had a roof over his head in a month, they were still attracted to him.

                He laid the Charm on thick and fast when he saw Logan watching him at the bar. The stranger had taken the bait practically immediately and Remy saw an easy score. He’d have a friendly drink or two with the man, lunch and then maybe some fun afterward. He could get a good night’s sleep in a warm bed for a change, a hot meal and maybe even enjoy sex with the man. And if it turned south, he would steal his wallet and hit the bricks before he knew what happened.

                But that had changed when Logan had stood up for him at the bar. When he had revealed himself as a mutant. That was no easy thing, and Remy knew it. Especially for someone like Logan, who looked relatively normal on the outside. He could have just as easily let Remy fend for himself, turned the other cheek and walked away. Instead he had gone out of his way for the man, protected him. Even stranger, when they had been alone in the hotel room, Logan hadn’t pushed his obvious advantage.

                This shocked the Cajun perhaps most of all, considering his Charm power usually left men aggressive and desperate. Not Logan, though. Not Logan.

                Once he’d scrubbed away the foul taste of vomit in his mouth he slunk back out into room and fell back on the bed, grabbing the remote and miserably flicking through the channels. But not even mindless television could distract him from the thoughts swirling around in his head. He’d lay low tonight and take off as soon as his companion fell asleep. Once John, a mutant also known as “Scalphunter”, arrived, they’d head out of town, someplace where he could lay low for a while and recuperate. He’d be safe with John Greycrow.

                His eyes began to close of their own volition and he didn’t resist. He fell into an uneasy dream, full shadows and knives in the dark, needles and cold, calculating voices, hands roaming all over him, tearing at him.

                He woke up with a moan and found Logan beside him, swabbing his face with a wet towel.

                “Remy?” the man’s voice seemed to float up to him from somewhere far away.

                The Cajun felt along the sheets, almost blindly, and found Logan’s hand. “Why’s it s’cold?” he mumbled, barely coherent, raging with fever. Logan eased him back against the pillows, pushing the cold cloth under his neck.

                “Fever keeps climbing, kid. Gotta take ya to a hospital.”

                “Non,” Remy rasped. “Jus’ need some sleep…”

                Logan looked at him worriedly and reached for something on the bedside table. He shook a couple of pills out of a bottle and handed them to Remy with a glass of water. “Keep this down if ya can. It’ll help. But if that doesn’t work, I’m taking you to the E.R., and you can blow me up later.”

                Remy nodded and swallowed the capsules down shakily and settled back in the bed, blinking around at his surroundings. The room was hazy and seemed to swim in and out of focus, but little of it had changed and that was a small comfort. Remy never knew if he would wake up in the same place he fell asleep; or if he would wake up at all.

                “You don’t have ta stay…” he mumbled after a while. The dark haired man looked down at him in surprise, unsure he’d heard him right. “Remy be just fine on his own…sure you have other places ta be by now…”

                “Nope, I’m pretty comfortable right here.” Logan replied easily, spreading himself out beside him on the bed and taking up the remote, Remy curled next to him, but not quite touching.

                “I smell like puke…”

                “Yeah. Smelled worse things.”

                “You don’t even know me, homme…” the man moaned pitifully. “Why you do dis? What ya want from me…?”

                Logan studied the other man’s face for a time, seeing the misery there but also the confusion. He would have brushed the words off as delirium, but he knew they came from somewhere deeper. He pushed back the man’s sweaty hair from his face again, scratching his fingers lightly over his scalp. “Ain’t ya ever heard of human decency?”

                “We ain’t human,” Gambit mumbled. “We _freaks_ …abominations…”

                “You don’t really believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t have come with me. And don’t try to act otherwise, cause I’ve been around long enough to know.” He paused, thinking for a moment, and then breathed heavily. “Look, I can help ya kid, but only if you let me. Only if you’re willing to listen to what I got ta say.”

                “And what’s dat, mon ami?” that sly smile was tucked in the corner of his lips again, though it was a thin shade of its normal brilliance.

                “I’ve got friends; people that can help you. They’re good people, Remy. Mutants like us. It’s a place called The Xavier Institute—“

                “ _Oh fuck you_ ,” Remy was pushing himself up then, fumbling to get out of the bed. “I _knew_ dere was a catch! Dere always is! I don’t want nothing ta do with yer _friends_ and deir ‘ _institute’!_ I’m _done_ being a lab rat!”

                “Remy, wait, it’s not like that!”

                _“Don’t touch me!”_ the man bellowed with surprising force as he stumbled and fell against the wall. Logan wanted to go to him, to pick him up and put him back into bed, but he restrained himself. Any force now would only make the man more frantic.

                “It’s not like that. I swear to you.”

                “What’s dat supposed to mean to me?” he scoffed, shaking his head, eyes staring up at the ceiling in an effort to hold back bitter tears. “Don’t know you…don’t know _anything about you._ “

                “Fine. I’ll tell ya.” Logan shot back, his normally calm voice edged with anger and bordering on a growl. Remy shuddered at the sound, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I told ya my name was Logan, but I’m better known as ‘Wolverine.’ Before that, I was known only as ‘Weapon X’.”

                Remy stared at him, wide eyed and frightened. Logan hadn’t expected this, but kept talking. “I don’t know who the fuck I was before then. I know that whoever I was died the day I allowed mutant hating scum like Stryker to experiment on me. I came outta his lab a monster; a monster with claws and a skeleton made of impenetrable metal alloy called ‘adamantium.’ They melted me down and recreated me as a weapon; a killing machine that wasn’t supposed to have a mind of its own. But I chose to be something better. I _chose_ a better life. And I’m telling ya, you can too. If for one damn moment ya’d stop pitying yourself and realize that. Maybe life dealt ya bad hand; _so what?_ You still got choices, Cajun.”

                Remy said nothing for a time, leaning against the wall, just staring back at him. Logan waited patiently, waiting to feel the kid’s empathetic energy wash over him again, or for him to try to run. But Remy remained immobile, just watching, sweating and shaking.

                “And…dis Xavier…he help you?” His voice was rough whisper, but Logan sensed he’d let some of his defenses down, if only for the moment.

                “Yes. He did. I was a lost man before I ended up on Charles Xavier’s doorstep. And no matter how lost you think you are, Remy…you can still be found. Believe me.”

                He got slowly off the bed and padded towards the Cajun, who pushed himself up and tried to draw himself up to full height. “I don’t expect ya to say yes. You can make your own choices; I ain’t here to force ya. God knows I’m not their best candidate for recruitment officer.” He sighed and looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve gone soft. That’s all there is to it. I’ve gone fuckin’ soft.”

                Remy wavered and Logan caught him easily in one arm, holding the long lean man up and letting him recover, head on his shoulder. “Ya can feel I’m being honest, can’t ya?” he asked quietly.

                “Oui…” Remy whispered, arms draped around the broader man. His legs wouldn’t hold him anymore, his head was swimming and he was tired. So tired. There was no more fight in him; no more will to flee. He would trust Logan, for now. What else did he have to lose?

                “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.” He picked the Cajun up and found little resistance as he did so, spreading him back out onto the bed and resuming his vigil over him, swabbing down his overheated and shaking body with cool washcloth. Remy said nothing, but he didn’t flinch anymore when Logan touched him. He’d broken down at least one of the kid’s wall, and for tonight that was good enough.

 

**

               

                Hours passed and Logan dozed in the chair by the bed, half watching a football game and half watching Gambit sleep. The fever had finally broken, and since then Remy seemed to be getting some much needed rest. The hellish flush had left his cheeks, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were fading. He looked relaxed, at peace. Logan began to find himself memorizing the narrow slant of his nose, the contour of his high sharp cheek bones, the long line of his neck and the way that rust colored hair fell across his pillow. He watched the other man breathe; the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint movement of his lips. And all the time Remy’s scent was becoming more and more engrained in his memory; something low-burning, earthy, sweet, spicy and electric.

                It was Jean all over again.

                Logan jerked up from his reclined position on the chair, his back aching as he did so, and stared at the kid as if he expected an alien to come popping out of his chest and fly at him.

                Oh _shit._ Oh _fuck!_

                He turned away and trotted into the bathroom, closing the door behind. The space was so small there was barely enough room for him to turn around, but he didn’t care. At least in the small room that was rank with the smell of mildew and old vomit he couldn’t smell Remy. He couldn’t _see_ Remy. He couldn’t think about how much he liked holding him, touching him, kissing him…

                “ _Fuck!”_ Logan cursed, slamming his hand down on the sink and feeling it crack a little. _“What the hell is your problem? You go all love sick and stupid for a woman who wouldn’t have ya, only to end up eight hundred miles away, falling in love with this idiot? Are you crazy?”_

                He turned on the rusty faucet and ran some cold water over himself, and when that didn’t do much, he stripped down and slid in the grimy shower, turning the water on cold. He growled and snarled as the icy spray bore down on him, but it did little to banish the thoughts he was having about the man in the next room.

                “You’re an _idiot_ , Howlett! He’s too young! Besides that, he’s obviously damaged. Badly. And trouble to boot. You don’t know what the hell he’s gotten himself into down here. What if he’s mixed up with the Brotherhood, or worse…” he scrubbed his hand across his face angrily, feeling the thickening stubble and growled at his reflection. “But you just can’t help yourself, can ya, ya idiot? Never could resist a redhead. Damn it all…” Logan shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of water splattering everywhere and darted back out of the shower, only to find that he was not alone.

                He looked up in utter surprise to see Remy standing there in the doorway, just watching him, wearing only the loose lounge pants Logan had given him.

                “Jesus, Cajun, don’t fuckin’ sneak up on me like that!” he barked at him. He didn’t exactly attempt to cover himself, but neither was he thrilled to have his sudden crush seeing him after the effects of a cold shower.

                “If ya need to go, I’ll be outta yer way in a second…”

                Remy didn’t say anything but crossed the little threshold and pressed himself up against the naked man, threading his hands through wet hair on either side of his head and kissing him deeply. Logan was stunned, standing perfectly still for a long moment, responding only out of instinct rather than conscious approval. Remy’s mouth was still warm, hotter than normal from the fever, and his tongue brushed over Logan’s lips, teasing, begging for further entry into his mouth.

                Logan moaned and gave in. Fuck it all. It hadn’t felt this good, this _right_ to be with someone in years. Maybe it didn’t make sense, maybe it was hasty and ill-advised. He didn’t care, as long as he had the Cajun in his arms.

                The dark haired man wrapped his arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, his wet skin flush against Gambit’s. He could feel the man’s growing arousal against his naval and was impressed at the length. He stroked a hand down the kid’s back, careful of his hurts, and reached down to cup his ass and give it a squeeze. Remy moaned in his mouth, pressing more firmly against him.

                Eventually Logan broke away, the younger man’s wet lips still close to his as he spoke; “You sure about this, kid? I can wait…don’t wanna rush ya.”

                “Shut up,” Remy moaned, knotting his fingers in Logan’s thick wet hair. “Take me. _Now.”_

The animal in Wolverine stirred, aroused and eager. This was more than an invitation, it was practically a _demand_ and that was something new, something exciting. He gripped the Cajun close and bulled his way back out into the main room with him, knocking him back onto the bed before climbing over him.

                He leaned over Remy’s long form, nuzzling his cheek against the younger man’s and licking down his jaw before moving to the long lean lines of his neck, where he licked and scraped his teeth along the pulsing veins and delved his tongue into the hollow of the man’s throat. Remy groaned, trembling slightly. Logan was tasting him it seemed like, savoring the tang of sweat on his skin. He’d never had a lover do that before.

                He reached under the man and tugged at his belt, sliding the leather easily out of its place and then tossing it aside before moving long nimble fingers to his fly. Logan came free, straining against Remy’s hand, already hot and throbbing.

                “Oh Mon Dieu…” he mumbled, letting his fingers wrap around the thick girth of the man. Logan moaned and thrust slightly into his palm, already straining for contact. Remy ran his thumb over his head and felt the little bead of sticky moisture at the tip and sighed. “You bigger den Remy first guessed, cher,” he rasped, looking up at the man. “It’s my lucky day.”

                Logan growled low in his throat, one rough hand moving down Gambit’s rigid stomach, feeling the sharp lines of hip bones before reaching down to pull away the loose fabric of his pants, sliding them down over his thighs.

                Gambit shuddered, naked under the hulking man, exposed and extremely vulnerable. There was a knot in his stomach, a pinch in his chest. He had been here before with other men and he didn’t want to repeat the experience. Logan seemed to sense his apprehension, catching his eyes and looking at him sincerely.

                “Not gonna hurt ya,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss Remy’s cheek and the little hollow between the corner of his jaw and ear. “You’re in control here, darlin’. You want it to stop, just say so. I’m yours, just tell me what ya need.”

                Remy caught the man’s face between his hands, looking into his eyes, studying him. He seemed to hold his breath for a second, and Logan noticed the intensity of his scent changed, if only slightly. “You mean dat, cher?” Remy asked, his voice cautious, tight even though it was laced with lust.

                Logan leaned over him more fully, wrapping himself around the taller man and kissing him deeply, slowly, lovingly. “I’m yours, Remy. If ya want me.”

                Remy reached between them, taking Logan’s thick length in his hands and stroking him in quick even strokes, earning a little mewl of pleasure from the man above him. This was real, he realized, a genuine reaction. He’d suppressed his Charm power, or as much as he could, realizing that Logan was probably just under its snare.

                But he was wrong. The man wanted him, truly, freely and without influence. And it wasn’t just lust he felt coming off him either. There was something deeper, something far more brilliant. Logan thrust into his palm, clearly aching for more. He let his own hand find Remy’s cock and stroked his fingers lightly over the length, making the other man moan and gasp, rising to meet his touch.

                He watched the effect this had on his new lover, loving the look that crossed his face. But he saw the darkened flush in his cheeks and felt the tremble in his muscles. Remy might want this, but his body wasn’t entirely up to it yet. Carefully he nudged the man’s hand from its place around his cock and moved a little lower until he was kneeling on the floor between Remy’s long legs, spreading them wider so that he would lay between them.

                Gambit pushed himself up on his elbows, gasping and sighing as Logan kissed and licked down his stomach, following the little trail of red hair that lead to his groin. He splayed his fingers across his sharp hips before bowing his head and flicking his tongue over the head, earning a loud gasp from his lover, followed by a little jump of his hips.

                Logan smirked, “Sensitive, hmm?”

                “More…s’il vous plait…Logan…”

                Logan pressed a hand over his chest and gently pushed him back onto the bed. “Lie back, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

                Remy nodded breathlessly, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan as he felt the man tease him with his tongue before taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Remy gasped loudly, throwing his head back, eyes wide. His control slipped, and Logan got a full blast of the kid’s Charm and empathy all at once.

                All of it rushing together made him dizzy, but he battled his way through barrage of emotions, shields intact and searched for the most powerful feeling. Desire and fear, mixed in equal turns. Logan stroked his hands down the kid’s skin, slowly, soothingly, working out the kinks in the tight muscles while his mouth was busy pleasuring him.

                He glanced up at the kid and saw that he was biting his knuckles in an effort to stay quiet, not looking at Logan and just staring at the ceiling. He pulled back, kissing Remy’s thigh and stroked him lightly, watching his reaction. The kid whimpered but seemed to breath a little easier all the same.

                “Too fast?” he asked.

                Gambit looked down at him, seemingly started that the man was asking him this, or perhaps speaking to him at all other than giving commands. “Non, cher…just…feels good.”

                Logan moved up, keeping contact but only just, and looked at him carefully. “You ever been with a man before?”

                “Of course.” Gambit chuckled, but his voice was nervous.

                “You like any of these men? I mean…was it ever more than just sex?”

                Remy shrugged, but Logan knew the answer was no. In fact, he knew the answer was even worse than “no.” Remy had never been with a man who hadn’t used him, who hadn’t simply raped him, whether it had been for money was irrelevant.

                He hugged the man to him and kissed his neck and shoulders, nose in his hair. Remy was startled by the tenderness the older man displayed and rubbed his palm down his broad back. “It’s okay, cher…don’t worry…I know you not dat kinda man now. I’m sorry for what I said before.”

                “You deserve better, Cajun. Ya deserve someone who respects ya, cares for ya…” he stopped short, but the words were there, hanging on his lips. Remy could call but hear them. “How’d you know what I deserve?”

                “I’m no empath, but the animal in me knows when someone’s trouble. And you’re trouble, to be sure, if the last twenty four hours is any indication. But you’re a good man, Remy. And ya got me all twisted up inside wanting ta take care of ya. Hell if I know why. It’s just…instinct.”

                Remy smiled and Logan thought that he was seeing it for the first time, a real, genuine smile. “You crazy, cher. And romantic. Wouldn’ta guessed that.”

                Logan palmed his hand over the lean man’s erection again, giving it several long firm strokes that made him hiss and moan. “Want ya to cum for me, darlin’.”

                “Oui, mon cher…”

                Logan laid close to him, grinding lightly against the man’s side as he stroked his cock, listening to Remy sigh and moan and whisper in French. He pressed his face to the kid’s neck and shoulder, kissing, licking, biting and sucking, leaving little red love bites on the tan skin. He groaned loudly when the kid reached down to touch him in return, taking up steady pace that mirrored his own.

                Within a few minutes Remy was at the edge, his hips stuttering and eyes squeezed tightly shut, no longer making any sound other than ragged breathes. “Come on, darlin’, come on…”

                “Nnnngh….Logan!” He bucked forward, head falling back as his hips bounced upward and Logan felt him spill hot and sticky across his palm, splattering his thighs and stomach as well. Logan growled appreciatively, licking the man’s neck and tasting his sweat. Remy took only a few minutes to recover before rolling towards the man and redoubling his efforts, letting Logan thrust against his body as he brought him closer to orgasm.

                Logan wrapped his big arms around the leaner Cajun, one hand gripping his back and the other digging into the tight muscles of his ass, teeth sunk into Remy’s collarbone. The friction was hot and amazing and Remy wished the man were in him then. But a moment later he tensed and then literally howled, cumming hard and fast across his torso.

                Remy kissed Logan’s dark hair and the tips of his ear and the little vein on his temple, bringing him back to reality slowly with little caresses. “Alright, cher?”

                Logan purred like a big cat against him, hugging him hard. “Terrific…you?”

                “Magnifique…” Remy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the man’s sweaty brow and turning his head up to look at him. “You full of surprises, cher. Thank you.”

                Logan pulled back, taking the corner of the rumpled blanket and using it to clean them both off. “Thank you, for trusting me.”

                Remy nodded and Logan noticed the tired glazed look in his eyes had returned. They crawled beneath the blankets together and he switched off the lamp near the bed, settling down with the Cajun wrapped around his torso like an over-sized cat. “Hurtin’ at all?”

                “Feel too good for dat,” Remy yawned. “Tired though…could sleep for a year.”

                Logan kissed the top of his head. “Get some shut eye, darlin’. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Glancing at the clock he saw that wasn’t far off. He turned the TV down low, leaving it on as he was used to the faint white noise of it that let him sleep. When he glanced down at Remy again the man was already out, limp and warm and content against him.

                Logan smiled then because he knew he was lost. He was utterly in love the man and there was no going back now, no matter how foolish it might be in the long run. He settled back in the pillows, watching _Wheel of Fortune_ and listening to Remy breathe, along with the faint din of traffic somewhere outside in the humid southern night. And for the first time in a long time, Wolverine felt _content._

 

_***_


	3. Chapter 3

 

***

 

                When Remy woke again it was to the warmth of Logan’s body beneath his, the steady thump of the man’s heart in his ear and the warm rise and fall of his bare chest beneath Remy’s cheek. He lifted his head, neck aching a little, and looked up at the sleeping man, feeling warm and glad to find him there.

                Logan looked younger when he slept, but he didn’t look exactly peaceful. He frowned slightly and his brow knit as if he were thinking hard, even as he slept. The lean man crawled up him and kissed his cheek and lips softly before sitting up and looking at the clock. For a moment he was sure that he had read it wrong, but the bright red digital letters didn’t lie. It was almost 6 am, and the sun was just starting to rise outside the musty hotel curtains.

                It was the longest night sleep Gambit had in ages, and he practically didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still a little dazed from the night before, but the fever had vanished and with it most of the aches and pains. There was a low steady throb from his back, but he had learned to ignore it. He slid out of the bed, quickly scooping up his scattered clothing and slipping into the wrinkled garments.

                He moved in utter silence, a practiced art of his youth, watching for signs of waking from the other man. But Logan did little more than snore softly and turn over, seeking the missing warmth of his lover’s body. Remy leaned over him and kissed his cheek again, scratching the thick hair that edged his jawline lightly and whispering; “Be right back, mon amour.”

                Logan grunted but Remy was sure he was still mostly asleep. He padded out the door of the hotel room and started down the hall towards where he guessed the drink machines and payphones were. He needed to call John, let him know that things had worked out. His old friend wouldn’t be pleased, having interrupted him for seemingly nothing, but Remy was very good at talking his way out of trouble. Most of the time.

                The halls were deserted at this early hour, and there was nothing but the smell of musty carpeting, damp walls and old cigarette smoke to keep him company. In the center of the corridor, shoved into an alcove was an old vending machine that sold Coke products and snacks that looked like they had been there since the early eighties. There was one lonely payphone as well, with a dozen or so numbers scrawled on the wall beside it. Remy scrounged around the machine for dropped change and came up with a quarter and three dimes and an old arcade token.

                He paused and glanced back down the hall towards his doorway and sighed, “Remy LeBeau, you a soft hearted fool,” he mumbled to himself. “Dis can’t be real. Gotta be some kinda catch to dis man. But…it’s been so long since anyt’ing _good_ came my way…maybe my luck’s finally changin’.”

                He smiled brightly, hope swelling in his chest as he turned back towards the phone, ready to make his excuses to Greycrow. But a hand reached around and clapped itself over his mouth then, muffling the startled yell that erupted from his lips. He immediately began to squirm only to have another arm wrap around his arms and chest and squeeze brutally. “Shh, shh! Quit yer squallin’!” a rough voice rasped in his ear.

                Remy leaned back to stare into face of John Greycrow. His dark features, more wrinkled than the last time Remy had seen him, were frowning down at him, suspiciously glancing up and down the hall as he backed the younger man into an empty doorway.

                Gambit wrestled away from the man, snarling and panting. “What de _fuck_ , homme?!” he protested.

                Greycrow glared down at him, frowning beneath the heavy line of his dark mustache that lined his mouth and followed down in straight lines to his jaw. “You said you were in trouble, so I assumed you were bein’ watched.”

                “You’re an idiot!” Remy sighed, “Ain’t nobody watchin’ me. I was just about to call you, s’matter o’ fact.”

                “That so?” the older man asked, raising an eyebrow.

                “Yeah…how’d you find me anyway?”

                “Believe it or not, Cajun, you ain’t as much of a master of stealth as you like to believe. You forget your talkin’ to a Comanche.”

                Remy rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, al’ight. Look, I’m sorry ta drag ya out here for nothin’ but t’ings have changed. I’m fine now, really.”

                The older man looked at him closely, appraisingly. Remy shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, “I got into a scrape, but s’cool now.”

                “You smell like sex.”

                Remy blinked. “You smell like motor oil and ass. But at least I’m polite about it.” He retorted. Greycrow stepped a little closer to him.

                “You got a piece of ass in there? I can take care of ‘im for ya.” He raised his arm, which was shielding beneath a long jacket, but Gambit could see the gleam of metal there. Greycrow could manipulate metal and mechanical devices at whim, bending and molding them to his own body. He was practically a living machine gun, and his aim was impeccable.

                Remy pushed the man’s arm down hurriedly, glaring at him. “No need fer dat. He’s a good man, not like de others. You keep away from ‘im.”

                The older man scoffed, “Oh that’s how it is, eh? I’m good if ye’ve got yer ass in a sling, but not good enough for your new _boyfriend._ ” He sighed, scratching his nose as he glanced down the hall again. “He said you might not come easy.”

                Remy stilled, feeling a tingle of dread in his chest. “ _Who_ said?” he asked cautiously.

                Greycrow moved to put a hand on his shoulder but Remy jerked away, taking several steps backward. “Come on, kid…you can trust me. We’re amigos. Ain’t we?”

                “No…” Remy gulped, shaking his head. “You ain’t yerself, Johnnie. He got to ya, didn’t he?”

                Greycrow continued to advance towards him at an even pace, and Remy kept retreating until his back hit the wall. When the man spoke again his voice had changed, into one that was all too familiar to the young mutant. “You didn’t think I’d let you run forever, did you, Remy? You and I have unfinished business. It’s time to come home.”

                Remy grabbed the cards he had stuffed into his pants pocket and flung one forward, watching it explode in Greycrow’s face as he turned to run.

                He bolted down the hall back towards the room and leapt inside, barely closing the door as the other man came baring down on him, crashing into the door and trying to grab at the Cajun. Remy bellowed and tried to slam the door shut on him, making the other man yell all the more, before reaching around and grabbing hold of his coat sleeve, charging it.

                Greycrow bellowed and backed off, allowing him to finally shut and bolt the door, for all the good it would do him. Logan was at his back then, pulling the kid to him. “You hurt? What’s going on?”

                “Gotta get outta here,” Remy panted, turning to grab his coat and the other mutants hand, rushing towards the window and yanking it wide. There was a loud bang from outside the door followed by a roar, and Remy looked back fearfully. “Get down!” He grabbed Logan and flung himself across the broader man, flattening them both to the floor as the room was suddenly sprayed with gunfire.

                Screams erupted from outside as other occupants woke to the sound and Gambit fumbled for more cards, lying protectively on top of Logan as Greycrow shot down the door. The moment the man entered he hurled the projectiles at him, blowing him back several feet into the hallway, smoke covering them as Gambit yanked his lover up and made for the window.

                He perched on the ledge for a moment and then leapt, Logan following after. They both crashed down into an open dumpster below and scrambled out, Remy wincing from the pain in his back, as they darted into the parking lot. Already they could hear sirens approaching.

                “Friend of yours?” Logan huffed as they ran, darting through side streets and then across four lanes of traffic into a nearby park. Remy began to limp and fall behind, clutching his back, and Logan fell back to help him.

                “Yeah…actually,” he wheezed. “Or he was, anyway.”

                “Yer really shitty at makin’ friends, darlin’.” Logan replied, looping the man’s arm around his shoulder and helping to support him as they slowed to a walk, hoping no one would take notice of the fact that they were both half-dressed and neither were wearing shoes. At least Logan had been able to pull his pants back on before they left.

                Remy laughed ruefully and bowed his head against Logan’s. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

                After a mile or two they sunk down on a shady bench together and Remy pulled his coat tighter around him, despite the heat. Logan surveyed the area, head lifted high, smelling the air and looking about for signs of danger, but mostly he just saw a lot people out jogging or walking their dogs.

                “So what happened back there?”

                Gambit leaned back on the bench, staring at the bright morning sky, trying to think. “I was supposed to meet a friend. Didn’t expect my worst nightmare to show up in his skin instead.”

                Logan blinked at him, “More mutants?”

                “Oui…not nice ones, either.” Remy panted. “De man you saw, we go back a few years. Vietnam vet named Greycrow. Never had a problem w’it him…but Sinister musta got to ‘im. Musta got inside his head.” He shuddered at the thought.

                “Who’s ‘Sinister’?”

                “Some scientist…a mad man with a scalpel. Used to work for Norman Osborne; leading researcher in mutant abilities. I thought he could help me…” Remy looked pale and sick and Logan put an arm around him protectively.

                “Hey, it’s alright. He ain’t getting’ anywhere near ya. Promise.”

                “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, cher. Sinister’s a telepath, a powerful one. If he can get in Greycrow’s head and make ‘im a puppet…”

                Logan only smiled and tapped his finger to his head. “Ah, but I have an ace up my sleeve. Another fun little trick I learned from the Institute; how to block telepaths from playin’ with my head.”

                Remy seemed unsure, but Logan only kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand. “Stick with me, Cajun. We’ll get through this.” He looked around again as if trying to get his bearings. “Which way is the airport?”

                “Why?”

                “I got some friends of my own to meet. Time I introduced ya, if yer up for it.”

                Remy hesitated, but Logan just smiled at him patiently. “Boy you got some trust issues,” he chuckled, scratching his chin. “Don’t blame ya, of course. Know what it’s like, feelin’ like yer all alone and the whole world is out ta get ya. But it don’t have ta be like that. Not anymore.”

                The copper haired man gave him a wary smirk; “You gonna change de world all by your lonesome, cher?”

                “For the right person, I would try.”

                Remy almost blushed, smiling down at his hands. Maybe the line was corny, but there was no lack of sincerity behind it. All this from a man who still knew so little about him, and yet seemed to understand so much. Remy hadn’t encountered someone like this before, someone who wasn’t interested in _fixing_ him so much as just being there for him. That was a man worth standing by.

                He stood, ready to reach for the man and kiss him. But the next second there was a loud “pop” and Logan gave a jerk, a little spatter of blood erupting from a whole in his head. The dark haired man’s eyes went wide then up and he crashed to the ground, blood pooling beneath the exit wound.

                Remy’s mouth opened in a silent scream, staring down at his fallen lover. He dropped beside him and rolled him over frantically, and Logan’s head lulled bonelessly against his arm, dead eyes staring up at him blankly.

                “LOGAN!”

                He looked up to see Greycrow approaching him, his gun still smoking. “There. That settles that mess. Come on now, I’m waiting.”

                _“You killed him!”_ Gambit screamed, black and red eyes suddenly full of tears.

                The other man looked at him blankly as if not able to understand his sudden sentimentality. “So I did. He might have lived if you hadn’t decided to be so stubborn about our agreement, Mr. LeBeau.”

                _“DAMN YOU SINISTER!”_ The Cajun was on his feet, the air around him charged and crackling, his eyes glowing with the strange pink light as he leapt at the possessed Scalphunter, grief and rage consuming him. "You'd better _kill me_ dis time, cause when I see you, I'm gonna blow ya straight back ta _Hell!_ "

                But the other man was ready for such an attack, dodging the explosive blows Gambit dealt towards him, barely keeping one step ahead of being blown to bits. Remy made to grab him, and he struck the younger man twice, once in the face and once in the stomach, kicked his knees out from under him and then pulled a syringe from his pocket, which he jabbed into the kid’s neck.

                Remy screamed and managed to blast the other man aside for a moment, sending them both rolling in the dirt. Gambit rolled and pulled the needle from his skin and cast it aside. Already the world was becoming blurry before him. His energy was gone, utterly sapped. He felt the heaviness of the drug rushing to his head. He crawled on the ground, reaching for Logan, then collapsed.

                Scalphunter shook the dirt and blood from his eyes and pushed himself up with an irritated grunt. Remy had blown quite a crater in the middle of the park, but it hadn’t done much to abate him besides singeing and bruising him. If the kid had been any quicker, he would have blown him to bits.

                He came to stand over the unconscious mutant’s form and sighed, picking him up and moving off into the distance, leaving the other man’s corpse behind and ignoring the frantic cries of the civilians he passed.

                “As always, Remy, you go out of your way to make things _difficult_ for yourself.”

 

**

 

                Logan came to, his head ringing and throbbing, blinking up at the too-bright sunlight that was bearing down on him. There were people standing over him, staring and gawking.

                “Oh my God! He’s alive!”

                “Somebody get an ambulance!”

                He frowned, wincing in the sunlight and raising a hand to shield his face. “Where’s Remy…?” he mumbled.

                The crowd gasped further and backed off as he growled and sat up, scratching at the tacky blood that was sticking to his face. “Remy? _Remy?!”_

                Gambit’s face was nowhere in the gawking crowd, and the peaceful park they’d been standing in what felt like only a moment before now looked like a battle zone with deep craters and burned trees. “Oh my God, they took him…”

                “Sir, please be still, and ambulance is on its way,” someone said close to him, but Logan was already on his feet, casting about helplessly.

                “Which way did they go? Did you see them?”

                “See who?”

                “The big freak with the mustache and the guns, ya idiot! Did he have another man with him, tall, gangly, red hair, strange eyes?!”

                “They went that way!” Someone called from farther back in the crowd. Logan rushed forward and the woman backed away from him, frightened by the blood on his face. “Which way? Were they walking, fighting, what? Please, I need to know!”

                “The big fella with the gun, he carried the other guy off. Don’t know if he was hurt or dead or…” she trembled at the look that crossed Logan’s face when she mentioned the word “dead” and then screamed when his claws shot from his hands and he let an angry roar.

                The crowd around him screamed in terror and took off running. All except two, who seemed to be making their way towards him hurriedly.

                “Wolverine!”

                He looked up and saw Storm gliding towards him, Beast loping along at her heels. “My God, Logan, what happened here?” the blue furred mutant gasped, looking around at the destruction.

                “Your face--!” Storm gasped, but Wolverine grabbed her, looking at her desperately.

                “He took him! That creep with the machine gun armor, _he took him!”_

                “Took _whom_ , my brother?”

                “The kid! Remy…I couldn’t stop him…” His face fell despondently for a moment. “I said I’d protect ‘im and then I let that _bastard_ take him!”

                “Calm down, we’ll find them.”

                Wolverine was already moving, forcing their questions and chatter out of his mind as he focused on picking up Remy’s scent. It was still strong here, even among the smoke burning earth and the heightened fear scent of the gawking humans. He followed it, Storm and Beast following him silently, knowing better than to interrupt. Finally, Logan got a clear read and looked down, seeing one of Remy’s playing cards lying in the grass. He picked it up and clutched it in his hand. It was the King of Hearts.

                “Hang on, Cajun. I’m comin’ for ya.”

***


	4. Chapter 4

 

***

 

                Remy woke again to darkness and a damp chill that gusted across his skin. Blinking, he realized he was lying on a worn seat cushion of a subway car. He sat up with a start, gazing around at the ruins of an old subway car, one he had called home in the previous months.

                There was no light in the tunnel save from the trash can fire in the middle of the car, its smoke curling up and out through a massive hole in the roof. He scrambled up, darting around, looking around for any signs of life. How in the hell had he gotten back here? The last thing he remembered was being in the park with Logan and then…

                “Logan…” a sob hitched in his throat and he clung to the pole for support, feeling bitter tears rush to his eyes and burn in the back of his throat. “Mon Dieu, Logan, I’m so sorry…”

                He heard a rustling then and turned, spotting Greycrow walking towards him along the dark tunnel. He was smoking a cigarette and carrying a bag of greasy take-out. “Feeling better?” the black haired man asked without even looking up.

                The next minute Remy crashed into him with a scream, throwing punch after punch, flattening the older man against the wall as attempted to put his head through the crumbling brick. Greycrow was startled and caught off guard by his friend’s violence, but he was also more than a match for Gambit, especially when the kid was out of his mind.

                Bloodied and bruised, Greycrow finally managed to block Gambit’s viscous blows before landing an uppercut on the kid and kicking him back, sending him flying against the side of the subway car before dropping to the ground. Gambit was already getting up again when Greycrow pounced on him, twisting his arm behind his back and slamming his head into the pavement.

                “Calm down! _Calm the fuck down, Remy!_ Have you lost your fuckin’ mind!?” he cried.

                “You killed him! _You killed him!!”_ Gambit screamed, squirming beneath him, energy shooting from his fingers and toes and crackling across his skin like a live-wire. Greycrow felt the shock and sting of it, but it did little to faze him, after the all the man had a healing power of his own.

                “What are you _talking about,_ man?!”

                The Cajun was writhing underneath him like a fish on a hook and to his shock and dismay he saw bright red stains blooming across the back of the man’s shirt. He climbed off him, still keeping his grip and pushed him up against the side of the railcar, “Gambit! I swear to _God_ , if you don’t get a grip I’m gonna have ta knock ya on yer ass!”

                Remy cursed him and finally managed to get a hold of the man’s belt, which he charged. Greycrow shouted and dropped the kid, fumbling with the belt, but it was already too late. He was blown backwards, filling the tunnel with the smell of blood and charred flesh.

                Gambit dropped to the ground, bleeding and reeling. He tried several times to get up and each time collapsed. Finally he laid in a heap, sobbing bitterly. For a few moments there was silence, and then he heard Greycrow stirring again, having recovered from the blast, his wounds already healing. He stomped towards the downed man and gave him a violent kick for his troubles.

                “You little _shit.”_ He growled. “I try ta help you and this is how ya thank me? Are ya outta yer skull?” He picked the younger man up by the hair and turned him over. Remy looked bad, but more startling were the tears on his face.

                “You killed him…” was all Remy managed, breathing heavily, voiced choked and raspy. Scalphunter stared down at him, completely bewildered. “Rems, I think you rattled yer brain or something. Ya called me to help, remember? When I came to get ya you were passed out drunk in some hotel room; _alone_.”

                Remy shook his head weakly, tears still spilling down his dirty face. “Non…non…you don’t remember…he got in your head and he made you do it…”

                “ _Who_ got in my head?”

                Gambit glared up at him. “ _Essex._ He used you to track me down. You murdered the man I was with…he was…he was…” The look on his face took his companion by surprise. He had always known that Remy was a better person than he was, he still had compassion for the world, even if it constantly kicked him in the balls. But the look the kid gave then made him realize that he’d lost something greater than just another one night stand; something really important.

                Greycrow let go of him, letting him slump back to the ground and sat back thoughtfully, scrubbing his hand over his mouth and mustache. “No…ye got it wrong. Killed plenty of men in my time but not without a reason.” He looked worriedly down at the other mutant, “Yer hurt, maybe a little confused. Come on, I’ll take ya back with me, we’ll talk to Essex together. He’ll patch ya up, just like before.”

                “NON!” Remy roared. “I ain’t _never_ going back dere! He can fuck with your mind, twist everything all around, but he can’t fuck w’it me _no more!”_

                “Remy, _please!_ ”

                The kid was up and running, and Greycrow called after him, trying to bring him back, only to have Remy blast a hole in the wall, sending it crumbling down behind him, creating an effective barrier. The Comanche stood in the wake, grumbling to himself. He wouldn’t get far, not bleedin’ the way he was. He’d follow behind, and when he finally ran out of steam, he’d be there to pick up the pieces. He mulled over what Gambit had said however, feeling slightly dubious. Remy was his friend but Essex was him employer, and his loyalties had been bought for so much less. Still…if Essex was screwing with him, that would be a whole other story.

 

***

 

                Wolverine prowled through the busy city streets, trying to follow Remy’s scent, but the trail was getting colder all the time. Storm and Beast trailed along after him, trying to get details out of him with little success.

                “You have no clue which way they went?” Beast asked, loping along beside him.

                “I was kinda _indisposed_ at the time,” Logan growled. “Bastard shot me in the head. Don’t know if he hurt Remy or not.”

                “That is indeed worrisome,” his companion replied. They had followed Logan to a busy intersection, and the feral sniffed the air, clinging to any hint of Gambit’s scent. But here it was too muddled with people and car exhaust and fumes. He snarled in fury.

                “No! I can’t lose him now! I gotta get away from these crowds; this fucker would have taken him someplace secluded, someplace they wouldn’t stand out.”       

                Storm rose then, levitating into the air, “I will search from above, what does the scoundrel look like?”

                “Big fella, tan, long black hair and mustache. Wearing a trench coat, under that what looked like a lot of armor or weaponry, didn’t quite catch it all.”

                “And the young man?”

                “Red head, brown trench coat, no shoes, blue sweat pants. He’s got black and red eyes, if ye get close enough to look.”

                She nodded and was gone, soaring into the sky and drawing the attention of the crowds as Logan and Beast continued on foot. “Why did this man take him, Logan? Have you any guess?”

                “Remy said he was being controlled by some telepath named Sinister. Never heard of the guy, but can guess by the name he ain’t too friendly. Guess he wasn’t finished torturing the kid…” He growled and redoubled his speed, forcing Beast to play chase.

                He’d get a hint there, a little whiff there, but it wasn’t quite right. The trial was getting colder. He felt frantic; if he lost the scent now he may very well loose it for good. New Orleans was too big, too populated a place with too many ways out for him to cover all his bases.

                “Perhaps we should contact Charles, have him use Cerebro…” Hank suggested, panting a little as he finally came stride to stride with Logan again.

                The feral shook his head; “Not enough time, maybe as a last resort.”

                “Are we not already there my friend? You have no leads and judging by your frantic nature, the trail is growing ever colder.”

                Logan bared his teeth, turning on the man. “Not giving up! I gotta find ‘im _now_ , before that bastard has a chance to do anything to him again!”

                He took off at a run and Beast caught up a little quicker this time. “Logan, I know you are worried but—“

                “Shut up, Hank, you’re distracting me!” He leapt over a park car, head in the air, forcing out the sound of the city, the sound of people, listening, smelling. _Come on, Cajun…give me something…anything!_

                But the scent had faded and it was no more than a breath of memory to him now. He growled bitterly and allowed his claws to speak his grief, slashing the nearest lamp post like it were a cat’s scratching pole and hurling a mail box into the side of a brick wall.

                He stood panting angrily until he felt Beast approach him slowly. “He wasn’t just a kid, Hank. Not just another mutant needing help. He…I felt something for him. Something I don’t usually feel; _haven’t_ felt in a long time. Not even with Jean.”

                Beast took in the enormity of this emission, his face falling sympathetically. “Logan, I’m sorry.”

                “He needed me, and I let him down.” He frowned darkly, and added quietly, “I let everyone down in the end.”

                Hank was about to speak when there was a faint rumble beneath their feet and Logan looked up in surprise, ears perking, eyes wide and alert, nostrils flared. The air tingled and hummed. “Remy…!”

                He cast about for some sign, but on the surface everything looked normal. The spark in the air, the rumble in the earth, it had come from below. Logan cast about for a moment and then as he rounded the corner of the building, grinned wildly at the sight of an old subway exit that had been blocked off for repairs.

                “Someone up there loves me today, Hank,” he grinned, darting forward. Hank followed behind, glancing dubiously into the darkness of the decayed tunnel entrance.

 

**

               

                He stumbled along in the dark, back screaming and blood running from the wound down into the waistline of his pants and trickling its way down his thigh until he was leaving little splatters of blood along the concrete behind him.

                It didn’t matter now. If he died before Greycrow caught up with him, so much the better. At least he wouldn’t have to endure another stay in captivity, another mind altering experiment that would end with him huddled up in the dark listening to a mad man’s rantings about a coming darkness that didn’t exist and how Remy was the perfect specimen to help him cheat death…

                A wave of dizziness passed over him and fell against the wall, trying to hold himself up. He was cold and shaking, his mouth gone dry and sour. He listened in the darkness but heard nothing but a faint dripping from somewhere above his head and the ever present faint rumble of traffic above.

                He pushed himself off the wall and stumbled forward again, but his legs didn’t want to move. He didn’t even know where he was going. He was out of options, out of friends, out of luck. He dropped to his knees, doubled over and dizzy. “Logan…” he mumbled again in the blackness. Maybe death wasn’t so cruel. Maybe in death he would see the other man again, maybe find some peace at last.

                Gambit closed his eyes and waited, waited for the darkness he would never wake up from. He felt a little rush of air and some of his pain faded. Then he chanced open his eyes. The tunnels were gone. He was kneeling on the floor large, plush room with damasked covered walls and high ceilings, all ornate and old fashioned.

                He moved around in bewilderment, not understanding how he had gotten from one place to the other, only to see that he was no longer alone either. A man was sitting in an old high backed chair near a fireplace. He was young, heavily built with arms that were covered in tattoos, and short dark hair and cold, intelligent eyes.

                “All is not lost, Remy.” He said, his voice low and soothing but far from warm and gentle. There was something under the surface of that smooth tone. Something unsettling.

                “Dis is my father’s house,” Gambit growled at the man before him, the man known to him as both Nathaniel Essex and Sinister. “You get outta my _head_ and you get out _now!_ ”

                “I’m only trying to make you more comfortable, my friend. You’ve already suffered so much, needlessly I might add. I never imagined you’d go to such lengths to avoid me; living like a bum among these wretches when you should take your rightful place above them.” He stood and waved his hand; the image of the grand house faded and once more they were standing in the dark tunnel of the abandoned subway.

                Gambit backed away, each movement more painful than the last, but he would have crawled across hot coals to get away from the man before him now. “Ain’t interested in no ‘ _master mutant race’._ Ain’t interested in anything you got! So leave me alone; at least let me die in peace.”

                The other man crouched down on the floor before the other man and brushing a hand along his cheek, “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’re too important to me, Remy, too important to our cause. The darkness is growing closer all the time, Apocalypse comes--!”

                _“He’s not real!”_ Gambit found himself shouting. “It’s all in yer damn head, you bastard!”

                Sinister grabbed him by the neck and forced him against the wall, glaring at him with strange eyes. “I’ll forgive you for that, my boy. After all you are not yourself. Such _grief_ I see. Did the stranger really mean so much to you?”

                Gambit glared back at him before spitting in his face. “I wish I’d never met you. I wish you’d left me ta die. Would have been kinder, after what you’ve taken from me now…”

      

                “Come home, Remy, where you belong. I will make everything right again, you’ll see. I’ve already shown you what we can accomplish together. Think of what has yet to be done!”

                “Je regret, mon ami…” Remy growled with a twisted smile on his lips. He grabbed Sinister, his hand glowing brilliantly as other sparks began to shoot from him. “But dis is where our partnership _ends._ ”

                Sinister’s face hardened and he glared into Gambit’s eyes, “Don’t be a damned fool, LeBeau. Even if you die, you are in my debt, and you will always be _mine_. I’ll drag you back from the grave again and a _gain_ if I must!”

                “I take my chances!”

                The next moment Essex was blown backwards by the force of Gambit’s kinetic explosion, and walls around them shook and trembled, dumping dust and debris over the two. Essex was cursing as he stood to run but the other mutant fired off bolt after bolt of energy at him, finding his mark again and again.

                “Remy! Stop! You’ll kill us both!”

                “SO BE IT!”

                Light flooded the tunnel and the walls came down around them; it should have crushed them both but the constant waves coming off the young mutant disintegrated anything that got too close.

                Sunlight appeared above them in large cracks and there were screams and the blaring of car horns. Gambit leapt upon the falling concrete, still sending out shock waves and explosions that crumbled and decimated the crumbling structure around him.

                A car came into view, it’s driver screaming in terror, and Gambit grabbed it by the bumper, propelling it backwards through the air and back up to the street above. He was levitating now, so full of rage, so full of unbridled energy. He rose to the crumbled streets above him, enveloped in a halo of light, sparks flying all around.

                To the unsuspecting humans above him, he was like some old God appearing form the depths of the underworld or some alien thing being born from the concrete. They gaped and gawked, screaming in terror and gasping in utter amazement.

                Only half aware of what was actually happening to him, Gambit surveyed the chaos of signs of Sinister, but the man did not appear. “Where are you!?” he bellowed into the crowd. “Where are you Essex!?! Too afraid to face your precious _specimen_ now!?”

                A bolt of energy flew from his hand and struck a nearby telephone pole which toppled over towards the crowd. Remy stared, only to see someone swoop from above and catch the thing before it crashed to Earth.

                The woman was dark, and her flowing white hair and strange eyes caught his attention. “Stand down my brother!” the woman called to him in a commanding, powerful voice that was like a gale of wind from a hurricane. “These people mean you no harm!”

                Remy stared, transfixed by the sight of her for a long moment, allowing her to get dangerously close. “Remy…?” the woman asked tentatively. “Is that your name?”

                Startled by her familiarity and half delirious, Gambit jerked aside, shoot another bolt at the woman, who was knocked back several yards by it. “Stay away! STAY AWAY!”

                The crowd screamed again and police made to move in, pointing their weapons at the enraged mutant. “STAND DOWN! WE REPEAT, STAND DOWN OR WE’LL SHOOT!”

                Remy turned and with a wave of his hand sent the officers running for cover as bolts of fuchsia energy seared the ground around them, further leveling the street and cutting the power to the entire area. Civilians ran to flee the chaos and overhead military and media helicopters were competing for air space, trying to move in on the mutant.

                “Don’t shoot!” Storm shouted to the remaining officers, her hands raised. “Don’t shoot! I am Storm of the X-Men! This man is injured he needs _help_ not--!”

                “REMY!”

                Gambit turned then and found to his amazement that Logan was emerging from the rubble within the crater he’d created, fighting his way through the collapsed brick and concrete and piping. “REMY! STOP!”

                “Logan…?”

                Immediately his energy levels began to drop. The utter shock of seeing the man he was so thoroughly convinced was dead was like a kick to his system. The aura faded, the sparks dissipated. Remy was standing on solid ground again, no longer a vengeful being of power but a mere mortal man.

                Logan made his way towards him, wanting to run but forcing himself to move slowly, Beast lingering behind should he need to pull him out of there. “It’s okay, kid…everything’s gonna be okay.”

                “You’re…you were…”

                “I know. Should have mentioned I ain’t so easy to kill before. I’m sorry for scaring ya, but you don’t have to do this.” He held out his hand for the kid, hoping he would take it, needing to hold him and take him away from this before anything got worse. He could already sense the cops circling around. He might be immune to a bullet through the head, but Gambit probably wasn’t.

                “Just take my hand. We can walk away from this, together.”

                The red haired man lifted his trembling hand, reaching for Logan, who moved in closer. He was almost within reach…

                He appeared as if from nowhere, the man with the mustache and the dark eyes. He wrapped an arm around Gambit and forced him back against him as the kid gasped and jerked, then touched something on his wrist that made a loud click. “Sorry, my friend. Not today.”

                “REMY!”

                Logan lunged for the man, but the next second there was a flash of light and Logan crashed into the dirt, his arms empty. He blinked around frantically, still smelling the crackle of electricity in the air and the heavy scent of Gambit’s blood. But the Cajun himself was utterly gone.

 

***

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

***

               

               

                Six months.

                It had been six long, agonizing months since that day in New Orleans. Logan had scoured every corner of the Crescent City in search of the man who called himself Gambit, but there was nary a trace of him. He had branched out since then, searching as far as Mississippi, all with no leads and no luck.

                Even Cerebro had failed to yield any sign of Remy. Logan knew this could only mean one of two things; either the telepath called Sinister was actively and constant blocking Xavier from finding Remy’s physic signature, or he was dead.

                Logan wouldn’t except the second possibility. No one on the team understood why. They tried to console him, tried to give him space to grieve, tried to help him search. But none of them understood. Why was this man, whom he had known for such a short time, so very important? But even Logan couldn’t give them a straight answer, if he gave them an answer at all.

 

                Six months. He’d been forced to give up the search two weeks ago when a mission called him away. If it hadn’t been vitally important to the survival of the X-Men, he would not have gone. But he couldn’t forsake the people that had grown to count on him just to chase ghosts.

                And so, heart heavy, Logan finally took time to grieve for the love that had never quite been. He took his bike and rode up north to Maine, where he could still return to New York in a timely fashion if he was called to do so, but where it was cold enough to remind him of home. Winters up North were bitter and cold, not that it bothered the Wolverine.

                He stopped at a small harbor town along the coast and quickly found the nearest motel and the nearest dive bar. The place was rustic and filled with fishermen and the usual crowd of bar flies, along with some rowdy kids who were looking to pass the time.

                Logan took his preferred place at the very end of the bar and ordered a drink. He kept his head down, not looking at anyone, face partially obscured below his cowboy hat. The beer tasted terrible, but he didn’t care. He was planning on drinking this place dry by closing time, in some small hope of obliterating some of his painful memories.

                Maybe he would finally learn his lesson; don’t get close, don’t get attached. It’s not worth it. You always were, and always will be better off alone.

                He fiddled with something in his pocket, pulling it out to look at it. The card was well worn now, bent in the middle and at corners, losing some of its sheen and textures from his constant palming of it and the wear of being shoved either in his pocket or in the belt of his uniform. The bright colors of it were fading too, but Logan had memorized the lines of the King’s face and the hearts that adorned each corner. Remy’s playing card, the King of Hearts, was all he had left of the kid. He had kept it with him since that day, his constant reminder, his one condolence. It used to smell like him, but now it only smelled like Logan.

                The bar tender stepped up to him then, catching Logan’s eye and taking note of the dark haired man’s sad features. “Why the long face, bub? Got yer heart broken?”

                “Always seems to be the case,” Logan muttered, lying the card on the bar and taking another swig of his drink and grimacing. He raised an eyebrow then as the bar tender sat down a shot of Southern Comfort.

                “I didn’t order this,” Logan said, not sure why he bothered to protest.

                “I know. That fella at the table over there sent it over.” He answered, thumbing back across the bar to a table on the other side. The man had his back turned to him, but Logan thought he recognized the color of his hair. Rusty auburn, gleaming brightly under the dingy bar lamps, that dusted the top of an old worn trench coat.

                Logan’s heart fell into his stomach and suddenly he was standing, everything forgotten, moving around the bar as if in a dream. The smell was there, he realized, but it had changed a little. It was still warm, spicy and alluring, but there was an edge to it now. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

                But before Logan could reach the table the man in the coat stood up and swept towards the door, keeping his back to Wolverine. Logan followed, heart pounding in his ears, and struggled to keep from flat out tackling the man. He disappeared outside, turning the corner, and Logan was at his coat tails.

                “Remy!” he called, reaching out to grab him.

                A hand came back and caught his and pulled him around the corner of the building into the dark side street. Logan found himself dragged to the man, those strange black and red eyes staring down at him, before his lips collided roughly with his. Logan moaned into his mouth, wrapping his arms around the taller man and holding him as tightly as he dared, fingers digging into the heavy fabric of the coat. Gambit was no less needy, deepening the kiss and brushing his tongue hungrily against Logan’s, knocking the man’s hat off as he threaded long fingers through his dark wild hair.

                Finally the two broke apart, gasping for air, and Logan caught the leaner man’s face between his palms, looking at him closely. “You asshole. I thought you were dead!” he rasped.

                Remy smiled and leaned his forehead against the other man’s. “Desole, cher. It’s been much too long. Thought I’d never catch up wit de elusive’ Wolverine’.”

                Logan grabbed his hand and dragged him around the corner of the bar once more, heading straight for his bike, keys in hand. “Where are we going?”

                “Back to my motel.”

                He climbed onto the old Harley and Gambit slid onto the back, wrapping himself around the feral mutant tightly. They took off across the slushy snow laden street, driving about a quarter mile back to the hotel. They entered through a side door, Logan keeping a firm hand on Gambit, as if afraid to let go of him, and marched into the hotel room.

                Remy ducked inside, sighing as the warmth of the room hit and turned expectantly towards the other man, who lingered at the door for a moment.

                “Logan? Everything alright?”

                “No,” Wolverine growled, turning once more towards him. Remy took a step back when saw the bitter look on the dark haired man’s face, but was more started by the sheen in his blue eyes. “What the _fuck_ happened to you?! Where the hell have you been all this time!? I searched _everywhere_ you bastard, I thought you were dead!”

                “I’m sorry—“ Remy began.

                “Sorry doesn’t _cut it!_ ” Logan roared, not sure why he was so angry or where all this rage was coming from. He grabbed Gambit by the front of his shirt and shook him. “How could you do that!? You think you’re clever, watching me run around like an idiot looking for you, biding your time till you could make some stupid dramatic entrance?!”

                “Non, cher!”

                “I came up here to _mourn_ you! I was finally ready to let you go, to move on! And now you…you…” He pressed himself against Gambit, face buried in shoulder and Gambit was startled to hear him release a sob.

                Hesitantly Remy put his arms around him again, laying his head against Logan’s. “I didn’t know you were lookin’ for me, mon amour. Didn’t ever t’ink I see you again, until just a week or so ago. Went to New York, to your Institute, hoping I’d find you dere, but dey say you gone. So here I am.” He kissed Logan’s temple softly. “Do you hate me?”

                Logan held him tighter. “Of course I hate you. I’m in love with you, you damn idiot.”

                Remy smiled and kissed him again, more softly this time, apologetically. Logan liked the way the man smoothed his fingers through the dark hair at this jaw and caressed his neck and shoulders, the way one hand slid up along his chest and moved to cup him under his chin.

                Logan nudged them both back onto the bed, straddling the Cajun and pulling him out of his customary attire. Beneath the coat Remy wore a plain black sweater and beneath that another thermal shirt, which Logan pulled off layer by layer as if he were unwrapping a present.

                Gambit chuckled as he laid back on the comforter and let Logan look over his bare skin. Logan’s eyes drank in the sight, but then paused when he glanced down at Remy’s abdomen. There were scars there, fresh ones that were still pink and raised. They were long, moving in a slashing diagonal line from edge of his ribs down nearly to his hip bone in five jagged lines. Claw marks.

                “What happened?” he asked.

                Remy shrugged, “Nothin’ worth mentionin’ now, mon amour. Can wait for another time.” He plucked Logan closer, kissing his neck as he undid the buttons of his red flannel, eager to get at the warm skin below. Logan cradled him close, allowing him the distraction as he surveyed the man below him.

                Remy _looked_ older, leaner, tougher. Something had happened to him, but what Logan couldn’t riddle out just then. Remy slid his shirt off his broad shoulders and ran his hands up his back and down his chest, nails scratching lightly through the dark layer of chest hair. Logan caught one of his hands and kissed it softly, “Will there _be_ another time?”

                “Oui,” Remy replied. “If you’ll have me.”

                Logan almost laughed at the nervousness in the other man’s voice, as if there could be any doubt he’d take him back with open arms. Of course, he might have given him some mixed signals after his outburst. He decided to make that up to the kid; right now.

                He kissed down Remy’s long arm until he reached the soft place at the crook of his elbow, the bowed his head kiss along his bicep and shoulder, moving along his sharp collar bone and down to his right nipple, which he nipped sharply and drew a gasp from the man in return.

                He licked his way down the Cajun’s smooth chest, nuzzling the hollow between his ribs and tasting his quickening pulse as he moved down the tight abs to the scars that were there. Logan kissed each tenderly, hating that someone could harm his lover this way. But he pushed those thoughts from his mind for now. Remy was here, real and alive beneath him, all his once more. And he wasn’t going to waste this precious second chance.

                He was just licking his way down to the edge of Gambit’s jeans when Remy's palm brushed across his forehead and caught his attention. Logan almost growled, wanting badly to taste the man, but knowing he couldn’t move too quickly. After six months this might be like starting all over again.

                But Remy’s eyes were soft and warm, not afraid as they once had been. “Non, cher, I have another idea. Come up here,” he pulled Logan back up the bed and rolled him so that he could lay between the man’s thighs instead, popping open his garish belt buckle and tossing it and the belt aside, sliding open his fly and letting his fingers glide inside where he found more dark hair and the man’s thick, hot erection.

                Logan moaned and purred, loving the way Gambit touched him. His fingers were long and nimble but not afraid to grab and squeeze and very sure of their grip. Wolverine’s eyes fluttered closed when the man ran his thumb along the thick vein beneath his shaft from root to tip and ghosted a kiss across his head.

                “ _Christ_ …! Remy, that feels so good…”

                Gambit chuckled warmly and continued to stroke him before leaning down and lapping at him the way a cat does a bowl of milk. Logan knotted his hand in the bed sheet and moved the other around to stroke Remy’s stubbly cheek and caress the long strands of coppery hair that hung in his face. He was so beautiful, Logan could scarcely believe he was real and _his._

                The Cajun took his time, working Logan into a frenzy of lust of desire until it was really all he could do to keep from holding the kid down and fucking him into the bed. But just when he thought he couldn’t stand much more, Remy looked up at him, moving back up his chest, letting his own needy erection rub against Logan’s stomach, twitching against the hot, sweat-slick skin.

                “Need you, cher, need you in me. S’il vous plait,” he purred.

                Logan looked at him carefully, studying his expression and trying to push down the urge that was screaming to just take the man right there without any further hesitation. “You sure, darlin’?”

                “Oui,” Remy answered breathlessly. Logan thought he would cum just at the breathless way the other man spoke and dragged him down for another hot kiss, wishing he thought to pack lube. He pulled back and brought his fingers to the man’s lips, and Remy took them into his mouth, wetting them as best he could before Logan moved his hand beneath him, stretching him slowly. Remy hissed and moaned and hid his face against the man’s chest. He caught little waves of Gambit’s empathy washing over him, making him more careful, more tender, knowing the man needed to be eased into this, no matter how much he said he wanted it.

                “Do it, please, do it now…” Remy moaned.

                Logan grabbed his thighs and spread him wider, pressing the head of his cock against the man’s body, wanting to thrust forward but afraid of hurting him. Luckily, he didn’t have to make the call. The Cajun forced himself down, crying out loudly as Logan broke through the tight ring of muscle and slid roughly inside him.

                A spark shot from his fingers and shocked the man below him, making him growl, but Logan only leaned up and bit at the man’s neck, sucking hard and trying to distract him from the pain of entry. Remy was so hot and tight, painfully tight almost and it wrenched another feral noise of lust from the man, who bucked up into him in quick shallow thrusts, stretching him a little more each time and sinking deeper inside him.

                Gambit trembled on top of him and Logan could tell he was struggling. He wanted to pull out, to stop and bring Remy back to that safe place, but the Cajun must have sensed his intentions because he shook his head before looking up at him. “Want you, Logan, more den I ever wanted anyone. Please…”

                “I know, darlin’, but we don’t have ta rush. We got time, we can take it slow.”

                Remy didn’t seem to think so and leaned up to kiss him, grinding down upon the man and earning another groan from him as he sunk in deeper still. Logan was so thick, Gambit wondered if he’d ever get used to feeling so full and stretched, but little by little the pain and the fear seeped away.

                He sat up, rocking his hips forward and back, hands splayed on Logan’s chest for balance and rode the man, slowly, deliberately, squeezing his muscles around him. The dark haired man looked up at him with such breathless adoration, waves of love and lust battering Remy’s senses, that soon he lost all fear and doubt. It would be different this time. Logan loved him, really loved him.

                Remy wanted to give that love back, ten fold and more. He’d give his soul to the man if he’d only ask; this stranger that had stepped so suddenly into his life and turned it on its head, giving him reason to live. Logan didn’t just lust for him, or even desire to use his power. He treated Remy like a friend; a partner, an _equal._ And Remy had never been that to anyone.

                They rose and fell together on the mattress, creating a rocking rhythm that had them both gasping and moaning, clutching each other for support and smiling between the moans.

                “Oh fuck…oh FUCK…Remy, I can’t…!”

                Gambit dug his nails into Logan’s thick arms and rode him harder, squeezing him tightly as he rocked the man’s head against his prostate. Logan let out a thunderous yell and Remy felt him twitch inside him, coating his insides with warmth.

                Gambit gasped as the sensation and then again when Logan growled and grabbed him, rolling over so that the red head was beneath him and hitched his leg up over his shoulder, driving into him fast and hard. Remy squeezed his eyes shut tight, breath being forced out of him with every jarring thrust, Logan’s thick hand working his shaft .

                It all became a tense heated blur, tension building to unfathomable levels, before Remy finally screamed with climax, sparks shooting form his fingers and charring the blankets below him and making the air around the crackle.

                Logan let out a deep satisfied sigh, kissing the man’s knee and thigh before easing out of him and crawling over him to cover his body with his own, kissing his neck and face softly. “Oh God, Cajun, that was the best I’ve ever had…”

                Remy didn’t say anything at all, still trying to catch his breath. Logan cleaned them off and pulled him into his arms. “You alright, darlin’?”

                Remy nodded, face flushed and eyes hooded. He kissed Logan lovingly and rested his head on his shoulder. The Canadian laughed, realizing he had actually rendered the man speechless. “Well, I’m glad it was good for you too.”

                The rested in the quiet aftermath, the air of the little room hot and heavy and reeking of sex. Remy let his eyes wander across their discarded clothing and noticed something poking out of Logan’s jean pocket. He reached for it and plucked up the old worn playing card, turning it over in his fingers.

                “You kept it?” he gasped softly.

                Logan nodded. “Was all I had left of ya. Had to keep it.”

                Remy looked like he might cry for a moment, and Logan would have teased him, if the Cajun hadn’t kissed him. “You know, maybe my talent for reading cards is better den I thought. ‘Cause I couldn’t have picked a better one for you.”

                “I love ya, Remy. You know that. Don’t ya?”

                “Oui. Je’tame aussi, Logan.”

 

**

               

                Two hours later, the two men laid awake in their bed, both drowsy, sated and aching faintly from their love making. Logan laid propped against the headboard, Remy wrapped around him, dozing slightly, restless fingers drawing artful little designs in his body hair. Logan gazed out the window at the falling snow and the darkness and knew they were probably going to be snowed in tomorrow. He kissed the top of Remy’s sweaty hair and took a deep breath of him, wanting to fill his lungs with that scent and hold it there forever.

                “What happened to ya, kid?” Logan asked softly after a time.

                Remy stirred, tilting his head up to look at the older man. “Hmm?”

                “When you disappeared that day. What happened?”

                Logan felt the man’s breathing change, felt the subtle tension in his back and noted that his fingers curled and clenched. He held him a little closer, hoping to reassure him. “Don’t remember much, to tell de truth, cher.”

                “Did Greycrow take you back to that man? The one you called Sinister?”

                Remy sat up, drawing his knees up as he looked outside as well. Logan glanced at his back and noted the white scar where his stab wound had once been. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

                Logan nodded, pressing warm kisses across Remy’s back, “Alright…how’d you escape?”

                Gambit chuckled, “Ah, dere’s a story. But when you raised a thief like me, getting out of tight spots is just part of de deal. I had to bid my time for awhile, but eventually all the pieces fell into place.”

                “Will he come looking for you?” Logan asked. “Because if he does, I’ll be ready this time. There’s some place we can go, someplace safe.”

                “Your school?”

                The dark haired man nodded. “If you’ll come. I think it would be good for you; getting involved with the X-Men. We could definitely use your talents.”

                “X-Men?” Remy repeated, almost laughing, but his eyes looked nervous. “Dat what you call yourselves?”

                “Hey, I didn’t come up with the name. You can take it up with Chuck.” He laid his chin on the Cajun’s shoulder like an old dog, looking soulfully up at him. “I gotta head back there soon, already been away longer then I should. But I just found ya, and I can’t lose ya again.”

                Remy seemed to think about, and Logan could smell a faint whiff of his fear scent coming off him. “I won’t let ya down again, darlin’. Please…”

                The red head turned to him warmly and kissed him lovingly, pushing him back into the pillows so he could lie on top of him. “Alright…Remy go with you, see dis school for himself. Ain’t got anyt’ing better to do right now, after all.”

                “Thanks,” Logan chuckled sarcastically. “Glad you could pencil me in.” he nuzzled the man and held him close, and little by little he fell asleep that way, with Remy lying on his chest. But the Cajun didn’t rest. He laid awake for hours, thoughts chasing themselves around inside his head.

                He had escaped Sinister, yes. But at a terrible price. If Logan ever knew what his freedom had cost him…

                Remy shut his eyes tight to the thought and pressed his face against the sleeping man’s shoulder, causing him to unconsciously grip him closer. No, Logan would never know. That was all there was to it. Some secrets he would have to bear alone, in silence. As long as he had Logan’s love, he'd keep the truth buried, and he’d do anything to keep it that way.

 

***

FINI


End file.
